I can see through one door then another, both consisting of three rectangular panels and painted white, open wide enough for a view of the window, eight panes of glass with no blind or curtain. There\u2019s nothing much in sight: bare floorboards polished to a faint shine, an empty chair to the left of the first door and brass handles on both. Beyond that there\u2019s only the light from outside, strong enough to erase anything beyond the glass. I feel a strong sense of empty space and with it a temporary peace. There must be something behind me, the place from which I\u2019ve come, but for the moment it\u2019s wiped from my mind and I fixate on the space between the doors, taking comfort in the emptiness. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
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The next time I feel a tug of familiarity, knowing that I\u2019ve stood on this spot and stared at the scene once before. I can\u2019t remember why I was there, or why I\u2019m here again, but it\u2019s comforting to gaze at that clear space and not worry about whatever is beyond the window. For the moment I feel restful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I hear a creak followed by a faint\ntap, not sure if it comes from behind me or inside the next room, and don\u2019t\nknow if I should be concerned. I stare through the doors, take a single step,\nthen allow my mind to drift.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now\nI\u2019m a little closer to the first door and can see that something\u2019s changed, a\nbarely perceptible movement which has opened it a little more towards me. It\ncouldn\u2019t have been me as I\u2019m still a few feet away and have no memory of\ntouching it. Maybe it was a breeze from outside, but the window is closed, so\nit must have been someone in the next room. I listen and hear nothing, which\ndisturbs me. It means whoever is there is standing still, waiting. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now\nI\u2019m close enough to touch the door but I hold back, wondering if I want to know\nwho, or what, is in the next room. I have no way of knowing if there is a\nthreat beyond the door but do know it\u2019s not feasible to stand still\nindefinitely. I take the extra step, place my finger on the door\u2019s edge and\npull it gently towards me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019m\nin the second room, feeling that time has passed since I opened the door. I\nlook around and see nothing but a bare floor, white walls, and a small wooden\ntable with another chair on the wall to my left. There\u2019s no sign of anyone\nhaving been here, and I think whoever moved the door must have retreated to the\nsecond room. I look towards the next door and the window beyond and feel\nreluctant to move. I\u2019m slightly fearful and don\u2019t know why.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\nlook around the room again, see just a chair in a corner and experience a vague\nthought that I should see something that has disappeared, maybe a table. Then I\nlook back towards the next door, grasping at a sense of familiarity. A name\nflashes through my head \u2013 Hammershoi \u2013 and I remember a time in the past when I\nstood inside a gallery, one of the rooms at the Royal Academy, looking at\npaintings that showed open doors in empty rooms. I shudder at the thought that\nI\u2019m stuck inside a painting. Then I turn to look at the door behind, see that\nit has swung towards me but is still ajar, and hear a creak from the other\nside. I move towards it, look back into the first room and see nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now\nI\u2019m back at the door between the rooms, realising that time has passed again\nbut remembering that I\u2019m trapped inside a painting and fearful of what\u2019s in the\nnext room. I listen carefully, remembering the creaks from each room, but hear\nnothing. Whatever was there must have gone, unless it was the room itself. The\nthought intensifies my fear, but I see a route to escape. The window has been\nopened, creating a gap of a couple of inches between its bottom edge and the\nlower frame. I still can\u2019t see what\u2019s beyond but it should be easy to raise it\nopen, look outside, maybe haul myself into the air and out of the painting. I\nfreeze, not sure how I long I stand there, but beginning to fear that this\ncould be an eternity. I\u2019m still fearful of the next room but I step forward,\nopen the door and look around to see that it\u2019s empty. The only object in sight\nis on the wall beside the window, a small painting of the same window, also with\nno sight of what is beyond. It prompts confusion mixed up with despair. Is\nthere life outside that window, a normality that I can rejoin, or is it\noblivion? I take another step forward and feel a tug around my fingers and\nwaist, a force pulling at me through the gap at the bottom of the window. I\nstand still, hear another loud creak from the room behind, turn, see nothing and feel scared. Then I\nthink of the prospect of staying in here, trapped inside a painting for \u2026.\nmaybe forever? I realise I have to confront one of the fears and decide on that\nof the window, fix my eyes on the gap and prepare to raise it and push myself\nforward. Then I hear a voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I turn. There\u2019s nothing in sight. I listen\nfor sounds of movement in either of the other rooms. There\u2019s a silence, long\nenough for me to turn back towards the window. Then the voice again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCome back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now I\u2019m terrified, of the unknown voice,\nwhatever is through the window and the prospect of eternity in this room. I\nremain still for seconds, then think that I have to confront the thing that\nmight explain why I\u2019m here. I walk back towards the door, into the next room\nsee nothing, then into the room where I began. There\u2019s nothing, not even\nanother door, just white walls on every side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I stare into the whiteness, then feel a\njolt and a turn inside my head. Now I\u2019m still staring at white but it\u2019s a\nceiling. Something beeps beside me and I glance to see a machine with an uneven\nwhite line on a dark screen. Then I become aware of a plastic tube in my mouth\nand a catheter in my left arm. A figure takes shape in the corner and I see a\nwoman in a nurse\u2019s uniform.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCan you hear me?\u201d she asks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I mumble, aware that my mouth is dry and\nwords slurred.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSee me as well?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She\u2019s young approaching middle age, with\ndark hair and eyebrows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI can.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She comes to the bed, presses a button\nthat raises it behind me, lifts a plastic cup towards my mouth so I can sip\nwater, then takes my hand and places her thumb on my wrist. I ask a question.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDo I have a pulse?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She smiles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mind clears a little.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow long have I been here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWeeks.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019ll get the doctor to look at you. She\u2019ll\nexplain.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She goes to the door and looks back with a\nsmile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYour family are going to be very happy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Image: White Doors by Willhelm Hammershoi<\/em> <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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